Today I helped my older brother get all of his exercise equipment out of the basement since he has moved out. We are graciously storing a few items, free rent, but they will be used! I relate it to me letting my cousin borrow my baby stuff, you want it, i don’t wanna store it, when I want it back, give it back in good condition. I am excited about the punching bag. HELLO stress relief! I love that thing. And Mike will finally have a weight bench, but I am now informed he needs an Olympic bar and that the Olympic bar only takes Olympic weights… ugh.
As we took things to the garage I saw a stuffed bear sticking out of a box, just the back of a brown bear, because of how poorly it was packed I believed it to probably be one her boyfriends boxes. I lifted it up to look only to realize it was mine! A large brown bear with a bell in its tail. He came with a big green bow, Christmas I believe, but the bow is long gone now. I grabbed the decaying trash bag it was in, and the one below it. Below it was a box with odds and ends of mine. I dragged it in the house. Mike grumbling about how we don’t need more crap.
I opened the bag to find a small bunny I have had since I can remember, a bunny in a diaper with a paci in her hand that was brought home from the hospital with me, a large stuffed panda bear (in terrible condition) that i received my first christmas (I have pictures!) when I was about 3 months old. I know I shouldn’t but I still treasure these things. It is amazing to think that they have lasted so long and I have such fond memories of all of them. The second bag was a DAV give away bag that got misplaced, for years probably, and of course they just had just picked up that morning! It’s ok, there is always next time. I hope mom makes good use of their receipts, we give them so much. There was also a box with some old craft stuff, some embroidery I had started when I was like 10 ect.
It made me start thinking about things that Dominic might remember when he is my age. I realized it is the small things that matter. I was blessed to have such a great childhood, and cursed with a depression so thick I failed to see it at the time. Dominic might not get vacations and power wheels, but he has an abundance of good toys, and lots of trips to the zoo. We may not have a great house, but we have a wonderful home. A steady home, with no chances of bouncing from place to place or having no where to go. If something serious ever happened I have two sets of wonderful parents that would take us in with room to spare. Dominic also has something that Mike and I both had at his age, 2 parents. But my parents divorced when I was about 6 and I believe Mike was that or a little younger when his parents split as well. On a regular basis I make Mike promise to be with me forever. He always reluctantly agrees with a smile and a kiss.
So we got home, hastily had dinner, the boys worked out while mommy had a brownie (I made it to split with D but he wouldn’t touch it, and of course Mr. willpower didn’t want to eat that much fat right after he worked out-insert eyeroll-). I looked around the living room and wondered what D might remember in 20 years. Potato head (all 3 of them), his “waygos” (Legos, actually duplos and megablocks), his toy story toys? So instead of rushing him, I let him play, he sat on our bed and played with his tools while daddy worked out. We skipped bath time. Bed time came and went. After he hid his tools under my covers a 2nd time I chased him to his room. It was lights out right about 9, only 30 min late, no big deal. Sang him a few songs and left. Well he didn’t go to sleep. He reads books in the dark, talks, makes his bed on the floor by his door. He started crying about the time daddy left for work at 10 so I went and tucked him in once again. a few songs and a few tickles. I offered him Eeyore, that he got from my mom the day he came home from the hospital and he slept with every night from about 1 year till a month or 2 ago. It makes me sad when he pushes him away. He won’t put him in the toy box, Eeyore gets a special spot next to the bed. But it makes me realize how quick he is already growing up. I tucked him in real tight, lots of kisses, and left again. He whined a little while longer till he couldn’t fight any more. I wish he was a sound enough sleeper I could go peek at him, run my fingers through his baby fine hair and sing “I’ll love you forever” when he is asleep. But I will settle for him giggling and holding my hand through it and repeating baby you’ll be at the end.
Then Eeyore isn’t so sad. While I might lose those stuffed animals again, maybe forever next time (but not quite willing to do it on purpose just yet), I will NEVER forget my mom singing me blue moon. Reading me “The Very Bad Bunny” or “I’ll Love You Forever”